


The Hunt

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's the one with a date tonight and Blair can't handle the isolation. He seeks to lose himself in a bar, and instead finds something competely different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunt

## The Hunt

by Loren

The Sentinel isn't mine. If it was it'd still be on air and there'd be a lot more shower scenes, oh and I suppose more emphasis on the guys relationship and their past. but mostly more shower scenes. *g*

Thanks goes to Nancy and Sam who turned my midnight ramble into something I could show my English professor. not that I WOULD. but I could.   


There's no sex in this one, just a lot of pheremones. LOTS of pheremones.   
This story was also posted to several lists under the title "The Dance"   


* * *

The silence of the room seemed louder than any sonic blast. Blair Sandburg, anthropologist, guide, shaman, bohemian, was alone again. Jim, for once, was the one with the date as Blair sat home in isolation. 

Blair stared at the walls of his room, his little box, cage, confining him, holding him in. Naomi hated boxes. "Baby, never let yourself be caged. You're a free spirit. You have to stay free!" Her words echoed in his mind. 

It was time to hunt. 

Blair selected his clothing carefully, tonight he intended... he NEEDED to find a woman. His skin tight jeans subtly emphasized his masculinity, his casual green shirt emphasized his beauty, and his wild hair emphasized his mood... he needed to free himself. He needed a moment outside of Jim's normal, "Leave It To Beaver" world. Blair needed to revisit his roots... or lack of them. He grew up without a home, detaching with love from father figures and girlfriends alike. It was no longer about an emotional connection, but instead the insatiable need for a physical connection. Jim's mock punches and buddy-buddy touching weren't enough...in fact Jim merely stressed the lack of contact in his life. 

It was time to hunt, to mate, to be. 

In his haste to leave the confining loft, Blair didn't leave Jim a note, didn't even take his phone. His mind was on the hunt, not the home. Blair grabbed his keys and practically bolted out of the building and into his Volvo, looking for the nearest club. 

Club Eden was jam-packed... just how Blair liked it. Sweaty, scantily clad bodies gyrated together in unison to the beat of a continuous, almost tribal song. The rational part of Blair's mind connected the situation to an Antilles ceremony giving honor to the gods. The island people giving themselves to the music and the dancing - jumping, leaping, touching, groping, pressing, chanting, screaming, losing themselves in the Dance. The drums taking control of them until they collapsed in exhaustion, completely spent and yet fulfilled. The Dance was serious to them, it meant life or death. If they angered the gods they would be punished by floods and poor crops, whereas if they pleased the gods their crops would flourish and their village would thrive. 

Tonight Blair did not dance for a god, he danced for himself. He desperately needed to lose himself in order to free the knot of tension in his stomach and the tightness in his chest, the aching sorrowful NEED for an understanding, a release. 

The room was hot, Blair's shirt now clung to his drenched body as he grinded with two strangers, he didn't even know if his dance partners were male or female. It was merely the physical contact, the group moving blindly, dancing with a passion that soothed him. A hand clutched his ass and he held a female form close to him in return, two bodies, dripping with sweat, pressed together as though it was the last moment on Earth. Blair felt like he was at least temporarily a member of a tribe, a unit, a single person connected with a building full of other single people, all forming a loose bond in their need for release. 

The woman surrendered her grip on his hindquarters as he turned and found himself dancing with another stranger. It was too dark to see anything. Blair was grateful for the darkness and the heat, his tears were easily mistaken for sweat in this atmosphere. 

This time he was dancing with a man, other bodies pressing against him simultaneously. Hard hands held his hips, guiding him in the dance. Blair guessed the person behind him was male, but couldn't be sure. He leaned back as a sweaty arm moved upwards to protectively cross his chest, pulling Blair even closer to the stranger. Blair gratefully surrendered to the embrace, for once allowing himself to be the one who followed instead of guided. The physical contact felt good, it made him feel more complete, his emotional tension eased as he ground his ass seductively into the very masculine figure behind him. 

Blair's existence was easier as straight, but he couldn't deny he found himself attracted to men as well; men like Jim... he couldn't think about it. Blair needed to lose himself tonight so he didn't think about it. Jim was his friend, his best friend, his brother, and... damn, he just couldn't allow himself to even imagine. 

Blair forced the thoughts out of his mind as he continued to disconnect from his consciousness, reveling in the music and the movement all around him. At first he didn't even notice he hadn't yet changed dance partners, he lost himself in the stranger's embrace almost as easily as he lost himself in the tribal beats of the songs. It wasn't until he felt lips brush tentatively across his that he realized he was still physically touching his dance partner. 

Alright, a man tonight. Perhaps a man would free him even better than a woman could. Blair grabbed the man's face and pressed his lips hard against his, savagely kissing the stranger. At first Blair's dance partner didn't return the kiss, but then the larger man began to kiss Blair with fiery passion, his hand threading its way through Blair's hair and loosely clutching the curls. Their bodies seemed to fit each other's perfectly as Blair pressed himself hard against the stranger, seeking some sort of release. 

Suddenly a large hand encircled Blair's small wrist, and the stranger began to pull Blair away from the dance floor towards the back door. 

All of Blair's mental alarms went off, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Women were better to pick up simply because he wasn't as worried about his physical well being becoming endangered, but a man... especially this man, whose features were shadowed to Blair, but body and grip betrayed his strength, could easily overpower Blair if he wanted. 

It was only when Blair tried to pull away from his strange suitor that the man turned to face him. 

"Jim." Blair barely choked the name out before the detective yanked at him roughly, continuing to drag him towards the back door. This time Blair didn't resist. It was Jim. He was safe...even if Jim was going to kick him out of the loft, the only place Blair had ever really considered "home" and worse... hate him forever. Jim, his family, his friend, best friend in the whole world, the only person who grounded Blair's restless spirit, who cared about him in that special friendlyparental -buddy way. Jim was going to hate him... 

Blair felt sick as Jim mauled his way past the crowding bodies around them and dragged him into the surprisingly cold night air. The back alley was a big contrast to the club. Where the club was dark and smoky and noisy and anonymous, this back alley was surprisingly bright, and fresh, and painfully personal. 

Blair opened his mouth to try and speak, apologize, SOMETHING to Jim, when Jim shocked him by shoving him against the brick wall, one hand on the wall next to his head, the other gripping his hair, and Jim's body pressed firmly against Blair's to hold him there. 

Jim's voice was low, feral, "Tell me to stop and I'll go..." 

"No... don't stop." Blair barely got out his breathless whisper before Jim covered his partner's mouth with his own. They kissed each other hungrily, Jim's fist in Blair's hair, Blair with one arm clutching Jim's back, the other hand in a death grip on Jim's ass. 

It seemed an eternity before they both came up for air. Two pairs of blue eyes searched the others for answers to unasked questions. The answer was apparently found when both men made a beeline for Jim's truck, guide following sentinel. 

Jim must have broken several speeding laws on the way home because they made it back to the loft in record time. They were barely in the door when both started stripping off soaking wet shirts, kicking off shoes, and beginning to unbutton jeans. The house rules were ignored for the moment as the clothes lay forgotten on the living room floor. 

Neither man had quite gotten his jeans off before they indulged in another almost instinctual kiss. This time Blair broke the kiss off, breathlessly protesting before it was too late, "But you're not..." 

"Neither are you... guess we're both wrong." Sexual orientation answered, they kissed again, hands groping, clutching, stroking slick skin and soaking hair. 

Jim had managed to drag his pants off while Blair was having more trouble with his own skin tight jeans. The young man's face was bent forward and his curly hair obscured his face. It was only when Jim reached out to help him that he heard the small catch in his partner's voice... Blair was crying. 

Jim pulled Blair into an embrace. "Chief? Chief what's wrong? I'm sorry, we don't have to do this... I thought you wanted to..." 

The younger man pressed himself hard against the older one. His voice was muffled, "I want to do THIS Jim. Please hold me... oh god, just... please..." 

Jim moved so quickly, Blair barely knew what happened before he found himself sitting on Jim's lap on the couch with his friend's arms tightly around him, his hand stroking Blair's hair. 

With Blair's head cradled on Jim's shoulder, the anthropologist finally allowed himself the release he desperately needed. Blair began to softly cry, his cries turning into ragged sobs as the emotional tension worked its way out of his body. "Oh god, Jim... god..." 

"Shhh, it's okay junior, you're home, I'm here..." Jim soothed his partner, for the first time realizing how thin Blair seemed, how tired he looked despite how he acted, and how truly burnt out Blair was. 

Home. The word was so simple, yet meant so much to Blair. Naomi always said they were each other's home. No physical place was needed to be home, it was a spiritual bond. Growing up, the spiritual bond wasn't always enough for Blair, he wanted a place he could call home, where he could be safe, be accepted. At school he was always the different one, the weird one. He quickly learned how to adapt, obfuscations became second nature to him... he wasn't lying... he was improving the truth, because the truth wasn't always enough for people to like him, and Blair so desperately needed to be liked. Naomi's acceptance wasn't always enough, he wanted his peers to like him, he needed them to like him... but they only liked the personas he put on for them, and even then they often scoffed at him, or worse, disapproved of him, disliked him, despised him... 

He needed to be touched, to be loved, to be held. Jim was holding him, telling him he was home... Blair didn't want to have to detach with love this time. Too many times in the past he found a temporary home only to have Naomi yank up his roots again. He didn't want that anymore... he wanted Jim... Jim wanted him... It was almost too much to ask for. Blair almost felt as though he had finally lost it and was hallucinating... but Jim kept murmuring as he rocked Blair, "You're home, it's okay, I'm here..." 

Jim's here... Blair's broken sobs ceased as the younger man fell into an exhausted slumber against his partner. 

Tonight he had become like the Antillean warrior, dancing to his gods, giving reverence, giving everything, to collapse exhausted and completely fulfilled. 

The hunt was over, Blair had found his home, and tomorrow when he woke up his new existence would begin. 

* * *

End The Hunt by Loren: lorie_leaf@yahoo.com

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